


tango

by dothraloki



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:53:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2733254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dothraloki/pseuds/dothraloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn't occur to either of them to just go to bed and spare themselves this complicated dance that they keep performing over and over again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tango

**Author's Note:**

> a tumblr ficlet

It happens so often it’s become a sort of routine. Someone will put on a movie, usually Dennis, and invite the others round - Dee included if she’s lucky. They’ll spend the evening bickering and getting blasted on beer even after the movie’s long since done, but as the night drags on they’ll all return back to their own homes. Dee first, around ten-ish, and then Frank and Charlie, usually together, around midnight, leaving Dennis and Mac sprawled against the sofa in their apartment, arguing halfheartedly about something they just flicked through on television.

It starts off innocently enough, but right off the bat there’s a weird tension in the room. They overcompensate - Dennis says something stupid about the  _American Idol_ rerun they’ve been idly watching, and Mac loudly cuts him off with something equally as stupid, mostly because he likes the way Dennis’ eyes harden and his jaw clenches when they argue. They, of course, ignore the fact that they’re both leaning dangerously into each other’s space - they ignore it until they can’t anymore, because Dennis tries to grab the remote out of Mac’s hand to forcibly change the channel, and in those brief moments of contact when Dennis’ hand is completely covering Mac’s, something ignites in the space between them.

It gets quiet then and they spend the next fifteen minutes feigning interest in  _Cake Boss_. It doesn't occur to either of them to just go to bed and spare themselves this complicated dance that they keep performing over and over again. But then Dennis turns his head and looks at him with so much reverence it makes him  _hurt_ and his voice drops to that low whisper that turns the tip of Mac’s ears red and he says, “ _Mac_.”

They’re kissing. Or rather, Dennis is kissing him. It’s important, Mac thinks, to make that distinction. He kisses Mac in way that’s singular and focused and not at all like any other drunken kiss that Mac’s ever had, and there’s so much heat and so much pleasure in it that Mac thinks he might die. He doesn’t feel guilty about it, not even when Dennis pulls Mac down against him so that his knees bracket Dennis’ sprawled legs- he’ll repent later, he always does, at confession or just on his knees by the side of his bed, rosary beads in his hands. For now though, he commits it all to memory - the way Dennis’ skin tastes like soap and salt and aftershave - for the days that he can’t have this, but wants it more than anything.

Dennis’ belt digs into his groin, so he unbuckles it, watching Dennis’ face the whole time, memorizing the way his lips part silently and his eyelids grow heavy. They never take their pants off completely - because that would be admitting to it, that would be attaching a kind of permanence that neither of them could take back the next day - but if Mac’s telling the truth he prefers it like this anyway. He’s addicted to the illicitness of it, to way Dennis sucks bruising kisses along his collarbone as they rock together on the couch - the way Dennis grips him by the waist, his other hand pulling at Mac’s shirt as if he can’t hold on tight enough. Most of all though he’s addicted to the muttered words Dennis breathes in his ear in that broken, desperate voice. They’re words that have haunted him before, and promise to again.

Mac, predictably, falls first. Dennis talks him through it, whispering “that’s it” and “baby boy” against his jaw as Mac blinks back tears that sting his eyes. He doesn’t pause to let himself think about, instead moving his hand down Dennis’ unbuckled jeans, his boxers and jerking him off in a way that’s far too practiced for a good Catholic boy. Dennis’ grip on his back grows tighter and he comes with a whimper and a curse and Mac swallows them both as if it’s his job.

They’ll lie here for a while, probably. Mac will fall asleep at some point in the night and when that happens Dennis will go back to his own bed. In the morning, Dennis will call him “bro” and studiously ignore the rumpled cushions of the couch. In the morning, they’ll both pretend to forget and chalk it down to “browning out the evening.” In the morning, Dennis will talk about banging chicks and Mac will nod and pretend to care.

It’s not ideal, Mac thinks, but it’s enough for now.


End file.
